


The Big Bog Theory

by MagicalStranger13



Category: Strange Magic (2015)
Genre: F/M, NSFW
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-24
Updated: 2016-01-24
Packaged: 2018-05-15 21:05:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5800087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagicalStranger13/pseuds/MagicalStranger13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bog, an experimental physicist who turned his back on love years ago, soon meets his match in a fiery, punk waitress when she moves into the apartment across the hall.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Big Bog Theory

**Author's Note:**

> IMPORTANT NOTE, PLEASE READ!!! :  
> This wasn't the story I originally wanted to finish and post for the anniversary, but it just managed to complete itself first. And though I am satisfied with the results, please don't expect this to be a very good Big Bang Theory AU. This story really just borrows the setting and some elements of the show. There is very little comedy, if at all. Even though Bog has more of Sheldon's build, he dresses like Leonard, and Marianne and Dawn both possess bits of Penny. I'm probably overreacting, but I just don't want anyone to be disappointed in case they adore the show. 
> 
> Okay, freak out is over, I hope you enjoy!

Bog sighed as he locked his car and headed for the front doors of his apartment building.  Another boring day at work followed by another boring night of Chinese takeout alone.  Technically, as an experimental physicist, he personally couldn’t classify daily work with high-powered lasers as boring, but the rest of society would beg to differ it seemed, hence the encroaching dinner for one from Tasty Eggroll.  He pushed his black, thick-framed glasses higher up the bridge of his nose and silently bemoaned for approximately the 24,637th time in his entire life, the fact that he had an IQ of 173.  It may have served him well in obtaining a PhD at age twenty-four, but it made socializing a veritable nightmare. 

He really only had five close friends, two of which were also college buddies turned co-workers.  The first was Theo, an aerospace engineer and his girlfriend Steph, a microbiologist.  It might’ve been a cruel thought, but Bog couldn’t help but feel that things were a lot simpler _before_ those two hooked up.  Since they starting dating a few months ago, he barely got to see them outside of work and he really missed the frequency of their so-called ‘nerd sessions’; nights chock full of D &D, Marvel movies, and video games.  _Now_ , they were a couple, and couples needed _privacy_.      

The same went for his third friend (and roommate) Sunny, and his girlfriend Dawn; Bog’s fourth friend.  At first, Bog hadn’t been too sure about moving in with a radio DJ, but Sunny had proved himself to be a very friendly and easy-going individual who just so happened to share Bog’s affinity for science fiction, fantasy, and classic rock.  They’d gotten along famously for four years.

And then, exactly eleven months and seventeen days ago, a moving van pulled up in front of 2311 N. Los Robles Avenue and two new tenants flipped his world upside down, metaphorically speaking. 

The first tenant was that sparkly, bubbly, chittering fairy princess of a girl named Dawn.  Sunny had taken one look at her short, curly blonde hair, crystal blue eyes and glittering smile when she’d said ‘hello’, and fell hard and fast.  Initially, it was pretty embarrassing, watching a grown man reduced to acting like a puppy.  No matter what was on his plate, Sunny would drop it all in a blink to go with Dawn wherever she invited him to, and he was always beyond eager to do favors for her whenever she asked.  It took Dawn some time to reciprocate the DJ’s feelings.  She was young and ambitious and seemed to be far more interested in harmless, but nonetheless shameless, flirting with every guy she saw.

Even Bog! 

Her friendship with Sunny often resulted in her coming across the hall to his and Sunny’s apartment to hang out (usually commandeering their kitchen to bake a mountain of cupcakes) and needless to say, Bog was quite unaccustomed to such attentions, even as innocent as they were.  Unfortunately, Dawn just found his awkward blushing and stammering to be absolutely adorable, so she’d flirt with him even more!  To be honest, Dawn was sweet as a soft kitty and Bog was…flattered, if not a bit disturbed, but she really wasn’t his type. 

She was too _happy_ …

…and he preferred brunettes. 

Thankfully, Dawn had dialed back the flirting to just hugs and her favorite nickname for him, ‘Boggy’, since she and Sunny officially became an item a few weeks ago.  Not so thankfully, came an endless parade of PDA and mushy talk both in and outside of the apartment, and once or twice, coitus sounds coming from the other side of his bedroom wall at all hours of the night.  At least for this weekend, he knew Sunny and Dawn were in San Francisco at a Bed and Breakfast for a romantic getaway.

Steph and Theo had plans, and Sunny and Dawn were out of town…

…and he had no one.

…

_Hmph._

…

_Who needs ‘em?_

…

Oh, who was he kidding?

Underneath all his selfish grouching about being surrounded by ‘fools in love’, the true root of his resentment was jealousy.  He wanted a girlfriend.  Five years ago, he’d made a solid attempt to find one.  Being notoriously shy, he’d joined an online dating website, at his Aunt Plum’s behest, called lovepotions.com that she’d actually founded as well.  Eventually, he started chatting with a girl that was also a physicist and into nerdy things; to top it all off, she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen!  It took a new inhaler, an Iron Man marathon and a grand total of twelve badgering phone calls from both his mother and Aunt Plum before he scrounged up the nerve to ask her to meet him in person. 

Worst mistake he’d ever made.

Bog had long ago accepted the fact that he was by no means a looker.  His wiry frame and sharp features made him look frightening at best.  If not for his impressive height and surprising strength, he most definitely would’ve gotten beat up more in school.  It was for this reason that Bog refused to put a picture of his actual face on his dating profile.  Instead, he used the Batman logo as his avatar and hoped to God that his online crush would be willing to love him for who he was and not what he looked like. 

She’d certainly let him believe that she did in all her messages and texts after they exchanged numbers, but the second he’d stood up to introduce himself when she’d entered the coffee shop where they’d agreed to meet, he saw her give him that all-too-familiar sweeping look from head to toe.  Her face turned a shade of pale that highly suggested she was about to be nauseous and Bog’s heart shattered when she turned and walked right out of the shop without saying a word to him.  He never saw nor heard from her again.  

His soul-crushing depression morphed into blinding rage by the time he got home that fateful day.  He’d trashed his room and cursed at Aunt Plum on the phone, blaming her for the whole damn thing.  The incident soon led to his sudden decision to move to Pasadena, California and take a job at Caltech for a fresh start, much to his mother’s chagrin.  Steph and Theo followed him less than a year later. 

By then, Bog’s ire had cooled to merely a cloud of derision for the idea of love and anything related to it, though he _still_ refused to speak to his aunt.  If it hadn’t been for Theo, Steph, and Sunny, he would’ve become a robot; delving mindlessly into his work and only seeing to the very basic necessities for survival.

For the four years he’d lived in Pasadena, Bog had forbid himself from even considering relationships, dates, or even casual flings.  It was all nothing but trouble.  The few hook-ups he’d had in college all carried the common denominator of alcohol.  He was a scientist and he had more important things to do than sit around pining for Mrs. Right and think about how it had been almost six years since he’d had sex.

Which brought him to his current tortuous predicament.

The second tenant.

His fifth, final, and most special friend:

Marianne.

If Dawn was a was a blonde, sparkly, bubbly, chittering, fairy princess, her older sister, Marianne, was a dark, sarcastic, brash, fascinating, lovely, intelligent, sexy, ass-kicking, _brunette_ , rock n’ roll tough girl with the body of a goddess and the attitude of a Spanish Fighting Bull in a pair of combat boots. 

The first time he’d seen her was after he came home from work on her and Dawn’s move-in day.  Since the elevator was busted, all the tenants were forced to take the stairs and he’d passed her on the second floor landing.  When her blazing honey eyes met his, he felt the traitorous heat rise on his face and the flutter in his chest.  Naturally, he’d been too stunned to say a word, plus she didn’t look the least bit talkative.  She gave him a short, glowering nod of acknowledgement and kept right on going down the steps without a single break in her stride.  

He didn’t think much of it; he always got anxious around women, but it grew harder and harder to ignore as time wore on. 

Marianne quickly established herself as the apartment building’s resident curmudgeon. Sometimes, it was hard to believe that she and Dawn were related.  She rarely said a word to her neighbors and was never caught without her signature scowl accented by her deep purple eyeshadow and lip-gloss.  Like Bog, she was a night-owl to a fault, which was why he often passed her on the stairs, in the lobby, or just outside on the sidewalk heading for God knows where.  She usually had her earbuds in and, from what he could hear, they had the same taste in music. 

For weeks, they spoke only in nods, but Bog learned quite a bit about her in the meantime.

Dawn defended her sister at every turn.  Apparently, Marianne was actually a very nice person, but she’d been through a lot in the last couple of years and she was struggling to relate to people as she once did.  She usually went to the local 24 Hour Fitness when she didn’t have work in the morning and she had a passion for photography and hoped to turn it into a career someday.  Dawn even mentioned how they both were waitressing part-time at The Cheesecake Factory and that their dream was to work together for a magazine once she graduated and got her degree in fashion design. 

Bog still shuddered to remember the first time he’d gone with Dawn and his friends to the restaurant during Marianne’s shift and he’d had to clumsily explain that he had a peanut allergy and was lactose intolerant when she came to take their order.  She’d stared at him for a beat and indifferently popped her bubble gum before jotting it in her notes and walking away.  He’d kept his humiliated head down for the rest of the night.

His confidence took further hits when he caught sight of a guy he’d assumed was her boyfriend, hanging around the apartment building a handful of times in those first two months since the sisters moved in.  Oddly enough, neither Marianne nor Dawn were ever home when he showed up and asked about the former, but his smooth, shiny blonde locks, chiseled jaw, blinding smile, and jock-build, were more than enough to take the wind out of Bog’s sails.  He still hadn’t admitted to himself that he had a crush at that point, but the brief encounters with GQ’s future cover boy only further reinforced the cruel truth that even the _possibility_ of…something between him and Marianne was out of the question.  So Bog’s shoulders would sag and he’d mutter out a-‘I dorn’t know where she is’-and vanish into his own apartment to find solace in World of Warcraft or Netflix.   

But, six months ago, things took a turn for the better. 

Sunny had a late shift at the station and Dawn was spending the night at a friend’s house; which went to show how open she was at sharing details about her social life, and Bog had come home from work to find Marianne struggling to haul what looked like a 55” flat screen TV, wrapped in a quilt and duct tape, up the apartment staircase all by herself.  By then, the most he’d ever seen her carry up or down the stairs was the weekly mountain of laundry for herself and Dawn; but, in this case, her huffing, puffing, muttered cursing, and snail-slow progress awoke the long-dormant gentleman in him.  Swallowing the lump in his throat, he coughed to announce his presence and hesitantly asked if he could lend a hand.  He tensed at the icy glare she shot him initially, but had to bite down a far-too-relieved grin when she finally grumbled, “Be my guest.”, and shifted over so he could grab an end.  

That was the first time he’d ever been in Marianne and Dawn’s apartment.  It was a two-bedroom, one bath, like his and Sunny’s, but with a different layout.  Every color of the rainbow seemed be found somewhere in the living-room alone, and the…extremely eclectic décor representing their contrasting personalities and preferences could honestly be summed up by one, single framed painting they’d hung over the fireplace: a human skull with a monarch butterfly perching on the coronal suture. 

He toed off his Chucks at the door, as per her request, and helped her unwrap the TV and place it in the appropriate spot.  Yet, despite her insistence that he’d helped enough for one night, he stayed to hook up her cable, Blue-Ray player, and Wii. 

As he worked, the oppressive silence nagged at him until he forced himself to make conversation by letting his curiosity get to him. 

“So, uh……did ye get a good deal on this TV?  I didn’t recognize the store packagin'.”

His ears burned when she didn’t laugh at his pitiful attempt at a joke, but at least she took the bait for small talk.

“It’s actually mine.  I went to my ex’s house earlier tonight and took it back.”    

“Oh.”

“You know that blonde douchebag that’s been hanging around here?  That’s him.”

“Ye mean that Roland guy?”

“Yup......the asshole cheated on me the fucking day _before_ our wedding and then had the gall to follow me and Dawn all the out here and annoy me for weeks on end to try and get back together.  As if _that’ll_ ever happen.  The prick.  I should’ve known all he was really after was my dad’s money.”

Oh, boy.  So she came from a very rich family.  Her league just stretched further away from his own.  Still, Bog was surprised she was revealing something so personal to him when they’d barely exchanged two words since they met, but he wasn’t about to complain.  Besides, he knew what it was like to have a broken heart. 

“I’m, uh…sorry he did that to ye.  He sounds like a real shithead.”

“Understatement.”  She said, crossing the room to the kitchen so she could dig through the fridge.  “Wanna root beer?”

“Um, sure.”

“At least I got away _before_ the wedding instead of _after_.  Now I have my TV back and he has a brand new black eye; not a bad day.”

He took the bottle she offered him and, for some reason, couldn’t keep himself from sharing his own personal story of love and loss.  She listened quietly as she sipped her drink and once or twice he caught her looking at him with sympathetic understanding. 

“That’s awful.”  She said once he’d finished.  “But if you ask me, it sounds like you dodged a bullet.  She was just a superficial bitch.  Trust me Bog, you’re not hideous.”

She clapped a hand on his shoulder and his face flushed at the contact.

“I certainly learned my lesson, though.  Love is nothin’ but trouble.”

“Amen!  Pain and sorrow; _that’s_ what you get.  That’s why I keep my guard up.”

“Me too.”

“And most important, I never-”

“ **Trust anybody**.”

They froze at that moment, not just because they’d spoken together, but because of how close they’d leaned into each other as the discussion wore on.  Bog ducked his head and resumed untangling cords and Marianne ran a distracted hand through her messy hair as she stepped back.

“Hey.”  She said, catching his attention again.  He turned to see her extending her root beer bottle towards him.

“To never falling in love again.”

“Never again.”  He confirmed and clinked his glass against hers.

“…”

“…”

“By the way, I like your accent.  Scottish, right?”

“Aye.”

“Were you born in Scotland?”

“Yeah, I moved here when I was twelve.”

“What’s Scotland like?  I’ve always wanted to go there.”

“It’s beautiful.  Good place to……run wild.”

“Heh, sounds like heaven right now.”

“……Ye know, every once in a while…I go back to visit family.  M-Maybe…I could take ye along sometime.  Sh-Show ye around?”

He had no idea where on earth he got the gumption to say that, and he braced for a resounding verbal thrashing about boundaries and being a creep, followed by getting his ass shoved out the door, but miraculously, her reaction was quite the opposite.

“Really?  Cool, yeah, that’d be nice……thanks.”

“No problem.”

“…”

“So, uh……what kinda games ye got fer this?”

“Not much.”  She shrugged.  “We were strapped for cash a few months ago, so I had to sell most of ‘em.  Now all I’ve got left is Resident Evil, Wind Waker, the Metroid Prime Trilogy, and Super Smash Bros. Brawl.”

Bog didn’t know what possessed him to mess with her, but it came out before he could stop himself.

“Smash Bros. Brawl, huh?”

“Yep, I really love the game.”

“Lemme guess, yer a Pikachu lover aren’t ye?  Or is it Kirby or Yoshi that does it fer ye?”

“Hey,” she grinned, encouraging play, “don’t confuse me for my sister!”

“Alright then.  Metroid!”

“Please!” She scoffed.  “So cliché!  Actually, Snake is my _beast_!”

“Ha!”

“What do you mean, ‘ _Ha_ ’?”

“Never though’ ye’d be taken in by a grizzled jaw an’ a headband.”   

“Excuse me?  I happen to think the guy’s a powerhouse!”

“He’s useless in the air!  All he can do is stay on the ground and throw things.”

“Oh _really_?  Alright then, what’s _your_ brilliant pick, smarty?”

“Well, Meta-Knight’s my personal favorite, but the best to fight with is Pit!”

“ _Pit_?!  That sissy little angel boy?!”

“Sissy?! Fer yer information, that _angel-boy_ can go anywhere in the arena!  He can glide forever, attack fast, reflect projectiles, and his recovery is _insane_!”

“So what? Snake’s recovery is great too!  He’s fast, and his grenades are barely visible, so he can catch his opponents off guard!”

“Ye can argue all ye want, nobody beats me with Pit.”

“Oh yeah?  Care to put your money where your mouth is, doc?”

“Think ye got what it takes tah beat _me_ at Smash Bros.?  Bring it on, Tough Girl!”

“You’re goin’ _down_ , Bog King!” 

He didn’t leave that apartment until well past 1am that night.  In the end, he was happy to say they were evenly matched; they’d both won as many matches as they’d lost, and he hadn’t had that much fun in a long, long time.  They’d laughed and heckled and elbowed each other until the call for sleep (and the battery life in their Wii remotes) became issues too strong to ignore.  And though it had been a chore dodging Sunny's suspicious questions about his persistent, gleaming smile the next morning, Bog wouldn’t have traded that night for anything in neither established nor theoretical existence. 

To put it simply, Marianne was…spellbinding.  He could certainly blame a good number if his losses to being distracted by her lilting, joyful laughter, and the shimmer it brought to her eyes of golden fire.  Ever since then, their association had improved tremendously.  She’d genuinely smile at him whenever they ran into each other in the hall, make pleasant small talk with him when he came to the restaurant, and would invite him over to watch movies and play more games. 

They hung out together on an almost regular basis; and bless her, she made valiant efforts to show interest in his work, though he did have to watch himself to keep from bombarding her with scientific terms most people had never even heard of.  Instead, he tried to make it entertaining and she got a real kick out of playing with a balloon he’d filled with sulphur hexafluoride and watching him pick an olive up off a table by using only an empty wineglass and centripetal force. 

On her end, she showed him her portfolio and how to develop photos in the campus darkroom.  His favorite pictures were the ones she took of a deep, lush forest.  The skies were always full of dark storm clouds that made the green foliage all the more striking.  Somehow, the images made him feel calm and wistful.  She truly had a wonderful eye.

He even discovered that she, like him, enjoyed swordplay, which led to them having friendly spars on the apartment roof.  Although, she’d drawn the line at his practicing with a light saber.  

Naturally, they had to deal with a fair share of teasing and suggestive comments pouring forth from Steph, Theo, Sunny, and _especially_ Dawn.  The younger sister had apparently been _dying_ for Marianne to ‘get back out there’ ever since the whole Roland situation, citing that just because he turned out to be a fucktard, didn’t mean that all the rest of the men on earth were just as horrible.       

For Bog’s part, every time anyone said anything, he’d blush and stammer and wish he could just crawl under a rock, while Marianne would grow curiously silent and thoughtful after she’d snap at whoever poked fun.  As much as he liked Marianne, he’d made peace with the assumption that he wasn’t her type, and even if he was, she deserved better than an old cockroach man like him.    

Even if he would always want more (marriage, a house, kids, retirement), he was beyond grateful to have a friend like her.  She made him feel happier than he’d felt in years.  He didn’t care when she’d give him a funny look if he sometimes talked too much about quantum mechanics or Star Trek (though he’d hurriedly change the subject).  It was all made up for whenever they ate Chinese food together, or placed bets on their fighting games, or exchanged playfully snarky banter during their rooftop spars.  He wouldn’t dare risk losing what they had.

So for the next half-year, he carried his crush in silence; dealing with all the innocent and occasionally not-so-innocent dreams that starred the brunette beauty as best he could without letting anyone be the wiser.  He enjoyed the time they shared together and tried not to think about how her voice made his throat run dry, how her eyes made his heartrate double, how her sun kissed skin tone made his fingers tremor with an almost unbearable desire to brush against her flesh, how her full lips, firm breasts, curvy hips, and long legs tortured his mind and body. 

No matter how much she unintentionally tempted him, he diligently kept his hands and thoughts to himself.  A guy like him could be nothing but a friend and neighbor to a gorgeous, wild thing like her.   

It didn’t matter that he loved her so much it hurt.   

 _Yer not good enough fer her, so forget it!_ His brain continually reminded him.  _It’s never gonna happen.  Not fer you._    

By the time Bog entered the apartment building, checked his empty mailbox, and started climbing the stairs, the depressing and repetitive thought had passed through his head at least four times.  He was so distracted, he visibly jumped when he came across Marianne slowly hobbling her way up the steps between the second and third floor.  She was hunched over, hissing and grunting in pain, and trying to keep most of her weight off of her right ankle.              

“Marianne?”  He asked once he recovered, grateful that she hadn’t noticed his flinch.  “Are ye alright?”

“Obviously not!”      

He didn’t recoil at her harsh retort.  In all fairness, it _was_ a stupid question.     

“What happened?”  

“I went to the 35er for a beer after work and to catch the game, and then fucking-Roland showed up!” 

“Oh.”

Roland, or ‘fucking-Roland’, as Bog had come to know him by in the past few months, had sadly, _not_ taken a damn hint the night Marianne took back her TV.  Ever since then, Bog had had his fair share of run-ins with the guy.  At first, he’d just stand quietly on the sidelines with Dawn, Sunny, Steph, and Theo, (if they were there) and let Marianne cuss him out until he either left, or Bog had to physically pull her off of him before she committed a homicide. 

Unfortunately, it didn’t take long for fucking-Roland to put two and two together and start antagonizing Bog as well.      

If there was something Bog could say about Marianne’s ex that was in any way positive, it was that he wasn’t totally stupid.  Even if Bog looked like, and was a nerd, he saw the way fucking-Roland scanned him up and down; he wouldn’t dare try taking on someone a foot taller than him.  So he resorted to emotional bullying; never failing to make fun of Bog’s ugliness, geeky profession, and personal interests.  Which as a result, only fueled Marianne’s anger. 

In fact, a few weeks ago, their whole group had been out shopping until fucking-Roland pulled up and accosted them in the parking lot.  As he harped on and on, and Marianne got more and more furious, Dawn began to cry, which made Sunny mad, so finally, Bog had enough.  He stepped forward and flatly told fucking-Roland to piss off. 

He remembered the brief flash of fear in those poison-green eyes before they hardened along with his arrogant smirk.

_“What?  Ya think she wants a beast like you?”_

Marianne flew at fucking-Roland like a damn tigress then.  Bog had never seen her so vicious.  Normally, Marianne was so calculating with her kicks and punches, but that time, she tackled him to the pavement; biting, clawing, and pummeling at any square inch of flesh she could reach.  Truly worried that she would kill fucking-Roland that time, Bog had immediately seized her around the middle to haul her upright, but due to her savagery, Sunny, Theo, and Steph had to help him.  As they pulled Marianne to her feet, she’d refused to release fucking-Roland’s jacket, so he’d been forced to stand as well…

… and that was when he backhanded her.

Bog didn’t care if it was an accident.  He saw red, and with an enraged shout, he grabbed fucking-Roland by the arms, slammed him down on the hood of his own car and wrapped his hands around his throat.  

He didn’t remember too much after that, at least not until they were all safely back in his and Sunny’s apartment ordering pizza to calm down.  Apparently, Marianne had convinced him to let go and they’d all fled the scene, leaving fucking-Roland bruised and bleeding.  It was late, so there weren’t any witnesses, and they all guessed that fucking-Roland must’ve decided against pressing charges, considering how no insurance companies had called, and no police had shown up asking questions. 

Bog couldn’t help wondering if fucking-Roland was some sort of masochist to keep coming after a girl who on more than one occasion, had given him a handful of black eyes, three concussions, and a cracked rib to go along with all her resounding ‘NOs’.

He was drawn out of the past by Marianne’s further explanation.

“He was telling me all about how he’s landed this great job and that he’s making good money now and that I should really be thinking about my dad’s estate because once he’s gone, Dawn and I won’t know how to manage it!  He actually said that it’s a _man’s_ job to handle finances!  He _said_ that!  To my _face_!”    

Bog ground his teeth, but made no comment.  There was nothing disparaging he could say about that sexist asshat that hadn’t already been said a hundred times over.

“Then he said that he’s started seeing some super model bitch, as if that was supposed to make me jealous or something, but that _he’d_ still be willing to _‘have some fun’_ and take _me_ back if I’d stop being childish and come to my senses!”

“Are ye _kiddin’_ me?!”

“Can you fucking _believe_ that?!  Not only does he insult _me_ , my intelligence, _and_ my gender, but he fucking implies that he’d be willing to cheat on his current girlfriend with _me_!  ME!  The girl he fucking cheated on in the first place!  AND _I_ FUCKING BROKE UP WITH _HIM_!!!”

“What did ye do then?”

“What else?  I smashed a beer bottle in his face.  In less than two minutes, the whole place was brawling and I’d broken his jaw.”

“Jesus.” 

“Yeah, I managed to get out of there before the cops showed up and……I don’t know, I was just so upset about the whole damn thing, I ran all the way here.”

“Well, how did ye hurt yer ankle?”

“I sprained it outside right before I came in”

“Do ye……need some help?”  He carefully asked, fully expecting her to snap a negative at him.  He didn’t call her ‘Tough Girl’ for nothing.  Because his mother raised him to be courteous, he’d always at least _offer_ to help her carry her groceries and laundry up and down the stairs ever since that night with her TV, but even then she’d always say no.     

Instead, her response came as a complete surprise:

“If you really don’t mind?”

He hated that he gaped like a fish for three whole seconds before giving her a verbal answer. 

“Uh, n-no!  Not at all.”

Biting the inside of his cheek to keep his hands from shaking, he gathered Marianne into his arms and could only hope that she wouldn’t notice how red his ears were right now from having her body held so close to his.  It certainly didn’t help his racing heart when she draped her own arms around his neck and laid her head on his shoulder as he trudged the rest of the way up the stairs.

A handful of minutes later, Bog had them both shoeless and settled on the couch sipping hot tea, with Marianne’s hurt ankle propped up on the coffee table, sporting an ice pack and compression wrap.   

“I just cannot believe how he can be so stupid and arrogant!”  Marianne complained, slamming her mug down.  “And he has the balls to try and rub my nose in how well he’s doing!  God, why won’t he just leave me the fuck alone?!  Or better yet, why isn’t _he_ the one who’s suffering?  Why isn’t he in prison, or in a body cast, or _dead_?!”

“Cuz the world sucks.”

Bog was well aware by now that Marianne and Dawn both worked terribly hard to keep things running smoothly for themselves.  Between unreliable tip amounts, Dawn’s classes, and Marianne’s never-ending search for well-paying, freelance photography jobs, their finances were pretty limited.  Marianne had practically hit the roof a few weeks ago when their car broke down, but Bog and Sunny were more than willing to drive the girls anywhere they needed to go while their Toyota was in the shop; though he did have to deal with quite a battle convincing her to let him pay for half of the car’s repairs. 

If there was one thing Marianne was to a T, it was stubborn; especially about accepting and/or asking for help.  Their father was so rich he could probably find a way to buy California, but Marianne staunchly refused to go to him for money.  Not only because she wanted to make sure she and Dawn earned their own way in the world, but also because her dad kept encouraging her to patch things up with fucking-Roland.  Of course, he didn’t know about the infidelity, but the damage was done by the lack of trust and unwillingness to ‘let it go’.  Thank goodness for Dawn’s scholarship, otherwise there’d be no way on earth they could stay out here on their own.  They would have to go home to their father. 

Faced with that possibility, Dawn was under a lot of pressure to keep her GPA up, which meant Marianne would often make her take less shifts so she could have more time to study, but less shifts meant less money. 

The whole situation was stressful as hell, and adding fucking-Roland into the mix would very likely force Marianne to snap, and the last thing they needed was for her to land in jail. 

“At least he’s sufferin’ from a broken jaw and messed up face.”  Bog offered, trying to cheer her.  “And they say alcohol is supposed to make ye more attractive.”

He really needed to stop trying to make jokes.  Marianne stayed silent and thoughtful.  As Bog inconspicuously studied her face, he was somewhat thrown to see her expression turn rather morose.  The way she chewed her lip told him she was thinking about something she either didn’t want to, or didn’t know how to, put into words; something painful. 

He knew better than to press her, but he didn’t have to wait long before she apparently lost the fight to keep her mouth shut.

“You know……it’s funny……after we broke up…and I decided I fucking hated everything about love……I…I didn’t realize……until later…that…that……that I still......I still want…all the things…I thought I was gonna get.”

“What do ye mean?”

“……Marriage…a house…kids…growing old together.  I even miss……what…I thought I had.  Someone that made be happy......who touched me…who cared……someone who…really loved me.  When…fucking-Roland cheated on me……at first, I thought…I didn’t want to…fall in love again…but…..the truth is……I was scared because……I thought I _couldn’t_ fall in love again.  I know it sounds dumb, but…I was actually afraid that fucking-Roland had broken that part of me......like he made it so I could _never_ get that feeling back…with someone _right_.”

“I dorn’t think that’s dumb.  To tell ye the truth, I eventually felt the same way about that girl I met online.”        

Marianne seemed to find the tail of her shirt to be very interesting, for she picked at it and kept her eyes averted.

“Yesterday, dad called…and……he said…he just doesn’t want me to be alone.”

“My mom says the same thing about me.”

He felt himself smile when Marianne stifled a laugh, no doubt remembering when his mother came to visit last Christmas and somehow ended up having a girls’ night out with her, Dawn, and Steph.  It ended with his mother getting wasted and babbling about her precious, lonely boy and how cute a couple he and Marianne would make.  Bog had never been more embarrassed in his life, but at least Marianne seemed to take it all in stride and not shun him for it. 

“Yeah, well……I’ve spent so long just wanting to hit every guy I meet and…it’s not like I’ve had any _offers_ ……maybe……a… _right_ guy…doesn’t exist for me.”

If Bog had ever taken a figurative leap of faith, this moment was without peer in that sense.  Summoning courage he didn’t know he possessed, he put his dearest friendship on the line.

“Well……h-h-how about _me_?” 

“Wha-?  What did you say?”

“I-I…,” Bog gulped; it was too late to turn back, “I said……how about m-me?” 

“…Are you asking me out?”

“……Yeah…yes, I am.  I mean it’s-it’s totally fine if ye dorn’t want to; I’ll understand!  And I promise, it worn’t change our friendship or anyth-!”

His agitated reassurance was _literally_ smothered by the sudden, and _very_ demanding, presence of Marianne’s full lips against his own.  He barely had time to register the unbelievable development before she astonished him even further by straddling his lap, cupping his face in her hands and pressing her breasts so hard against his chest he flopped back against the couch cushions.   

She was relentless; sliding against him, raking her fingers through his hair, and devouring his lips, and as much as he desperately wanted to reciprocate more, his logical favoring brain demanded clarification.

“M-Ma-Marianne?!”

“Yes!”  She breathed, trailing kisses down his stubbly jaw. 

“What?”

“Yes!  Yes, I _will_ go out with you! 

“Ye-?  Re-Really?!  Ye _will_?!  Ye actually _want_ to?” 

This had to be a dream!

“Of course I want to, Bog!  God, I’ve been waiting for you to ask me out for _weeks_!”

“Huh?!  Ye _have_?!  Why didn’t ye-?”

“I don’t know…I guess cuz I was scared.”

“Scared?  Of _me_?!”

“No, not of _you_.  Well, not exactly.  See, it was…it was like this: I wasn’t _scared_ -scared but……I was worried that I…wouldn’t be…… _good_ enough…for you.”

Bog’s jaw fell open but no sound came out.  He blinked at her, unable to process what she’d just said.  _She_ didn’t think she was good enough for _him_?!  Okay, he was _so_ dreaming this!

“You’re so…sweet and fun and handsome and successful and…and you’re a _genius_ and I’m just a…a stupid college dropout who waits tables and beats people up.  I’m just……I’m just afraid that I’ll…bore you or-”  

“Stop!”

“But, I-”

“No, stop!”

He cupped her face in his hands so she could look him square in the eye.  His already deep voice dropped another octave, as it always did when he was dead serious about something.

“Listen to me, Marianne.  Yer _not_ stupid and ye will _never_ bore me; _ever_!  Ye dropped out of college because, when yer mom died, ye wanted to work and make sure yer sister could afford to go after she graduated high school.  Ye wait tables cuz ye need the flexible scheduling fer yer photography.  Ye dorn’t take shit from anyone or anything.  I wish I was _half_ as bold as ye.  Yer beautiful, talented, smart, fun, selfless, brave, and most of all, yer _tough_ ; tough as nails.  Yer my best friend, Marianne, and I……I _luv_ ye.”

Marianne stilled, her eyes wide open and vulnerable.  Her lower lip trembled for a few seconds before she could answer.

“You…… _love_ me?  You really do?”

“Aye.”

“Oh my God!”

Tears raced down her cheeks.

“Bog, I love you too!  Goddammit, I love you so much!”

She took off his glasses and threw herself at him again, this time coaxing his mouth to open and stroking her tongue against his own.  It was as if Bog was melting.  This couldn’t be real, but as his hands clutched at her waist, feeling the warmth of her skin through her top, and he listened to her soft sighs as they kissed, he began to accept (with no small amount of joy) that he was indeed awake and wanted by the girl he loved so damn much. 

When they parted, they stared at each other in a drunken haze, breathing fast and heavy, until Marianne blushed and curled into herself to fiddle with the opening of his hoodie, suddenly shy and anxious. 

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, it’s…it’s just…” she chewed her lip again and became more animated in her distress, "…I don’t wanna fuck this up, like I fuck everything else up in my life, because you’re _so_ important to me!  I…I wanna take this slow…okay?”       

“Look at me.”

It was a moment before her goldenrod eyes met him.

“That is absolutely _fine_.  We will _not_ do _anything_ ye don’t want to do.  Ye mean everythin’ to me, Marianne.  I jus’ want ye to be happy an’ comfortable, no matter what.  If ye want, we can watch a movie or play some Resident-”

He was cut off by Marianne’s lips _again_ , only this time, she was kissing him like her heart would cease to beat if she didn’t.  Bog struggled to keep up, molding his mouth against her own as best he could, but it was getting insanely difficult to concentrate.  Her hands were _everywhere_ , and as a result, his jeans were beginning to feel tighter.  He tried to shift so she wouldn’t feel the bulge between his legs, but to his utter shock, she deliberately ground her hips down on him!

“M-Marianne!”  He gasped, tearing his mouth away as she licked at his neck. “I-I thought ye said-!”

“To _hell_ with slow.”  She hissed.  “I’ve changed my mind.  I want you right _now_!”

As she resumed her lustful attentions, Bog soon got over his hesitancy and was more than willing to surrender to their mutual desires.  He felt like a mouse being gloriously mauled by a cat.  Her tongue lapped at his own, her teeth nipped his flesh, and her nails scratched down his chest through his Thundercats T-shirt.  His head was spinning and he couldn’t breathe, but he didn’t care.

How _could_ you care about breathing when your greatest wish had come true?

Perhaps this thought was why she caught him so off guard when she shimmied down his body to the floor.

“Marianne, yer ankle!”  He warned, not catching on to her intention and trying to pull her back up to his lap.  “Be careful!” 

“It’s fine.”  She insisted, shrugging him off, but making sure she placed her sprained ankle in a safe position as she settled between his knees. 

“Well, what are ye-?”

Her fiery eyes flashed up at him and she skimmed her hands along his thighs with a devious smirk on her lips.

_Oh._

_Oh!_

_OH!!!_

He felt himself instantly fill with equal parts excitement and panic. 

“Marianne, w-wait!”  He cried as she nimbly undid the front of his pants.  “Ye dorn’t have to-!”

But she ignored him and his voice ceased to function once she’d pulled his boxers down low enough for her to see and grip his already rock-hard erection.  

Bog nearly leapt out of his skin at the feeling of her hand on him.  Dear God, she was staring at it like one would stare at a Popsicle on the hottest summer day!  His hands slapped to the couch and grabbed fistfuls of microfiber once she began to stroke him; expertly applying more pressure at the base, loosening as she rose to the tip.  His mouth fell open in a hypnotized grunt at the sensation, and she slowly began to increase her pace as she caressed his hip and stomach with her free hand.  

And then her face came _closer_.

Bog tensed, dreading, but fully expecting, that he was about to wake up alone in his bed to the blaring sound of his alarm clock and an annoying stain in his sheets.  There was no way.  She couldn’t seriously want to-!

She _did_.  Her sweet tongue traced a scorching line up the underside of his cock, swirled around the swollen head and then her hungry mouth took him in.

“Fuck!”

Bog’s head fell back against the couch with a loud, helpless moan.  No one had ever done _this_ to him before, and because it was her, he could now understand what all the fuss was about.  Her mouth was _paradise_ , sucking on him while her tongue danced and teased.  He’d waited so long, he loved her so much, and it felt so damn good, there was no chance of him lasting longer than a few minutes.  Especially when she pumped what she couldn’t fit into her mouth with her hand and fondled his balls with the other!

“Ah!  Mari-Marianne!  Ngh...oh…shit…mm!”

Sweating and shaking, Bog forced himself to look down at her, to witness the evidence of her yearning for him, and he immediately felt the familiar tightening in his stomach when she glanced up at him with those amber eyes darkened by lust as she bobbed on him. 

“M-Marianne…sto-stop!  I’m gonna-!  I’m gonna _cum_!” 

Yet she did not yield to either his gentle nudge nor plea.  Instead, she hollowed her cheeks and took him in further, all the way to the back of her throat.  She worked him faster, humming with pleasure as she did so until Bog could stand it no more.  The sight of her on him, the feeling, and the sound; it all culminated into a symphony of mental and physical rapture as he finally burst in her mouth, writhing and bucking as she swallowed every last drop of his seed. 

While his high IQ brain busied itself with remembering how to draw air into the lungs properly, Marianne licked her lips and crawled back up his sprawled, limp body with an impish grin. 

“I take it you liked that?”  She purred, nuzzling his neck and shoulder as she pulled his hoodie off and tossed it to the floor. 

He could do little more than gulp and nod, at least until she guided his mouth to hers.  Their kissing was no less enthusiastic, but there was a newfound tenderness about it as their hands explored; like there was no one else in the world but the two of them.  It wasn’t long before they’d removed Bog’s shirt and Marianne was kneading and placing tiny pecks across his chest while Bog massaged her sides with his thumbs.  He was a bit startled when she suddenly sat up and pulled her own shirt over her head, revealing a sexy as all hell lacy, purple bra.  He barely got any time to admire it though, before she unhooked it…

…in the _front_ …

…and put her perfect breasts on full display to his ravenous gaze. 

Bog’s mouth watered and his hands tingled with the urge to…do something.  Anything!  But he just couldn’t move.  He was arrested by her.  Even his most vivid dreams hadn’t done them justice.  The slope and swell were a vision.  The smooth, pale flesh was as mesmerizing as a meadow covered in new fallen snow.  And her nipples, taunt and rosy pink, beckoned him as a siren would beckon a sailor.  Too bad his body wouldn’t even twitch, he was so thunderstruck.

Thankfully, his awe was plain on his face.

 “Bog,” Marianne whispered, breaking him out of his stupor, “please… _touch_ me.”

His breath seemed deafening to his ears as his trembling hands reached up to cup one of nature’s most magnificent creations.  The skin was softer and warmer than he could’ve ever hoped to imagine.  Because of his large hands (which spread out, covered nearly her entire chest) her breasts seemed small, but Bog liked that.  He liked that he could hold them so fully, but what he like even more, was the myriad of expressions on Marianne’s face as he continued to palm her with increasing firmness. 

When her jaw went slack with abandon, Bog decided to take things a step further and started rolling her nipples between his fingers, earning a series of gasps and whimpering groans from the goddess in his arms.  Unable to help himself, he leaned in and licked the peak of her left breast.

Her reaction was instantaneous: she seized his shoulders in a death-grip and arched towards him with a piercing cry, practically shoving the nipple into his mouth; a development he was quite pleased with.

Bog lost himself to his task, suckling and pinching her beasts while her moans grew louder and louder.  Who knew she was so sensitive?  It was kind of intense.  Just as he’d thought that, he simultaneously bit her right nipple and tugged on her left, resulting in Marianne stiffening and clutching his head to her breasts with a heaving shriek of delight.

“OH…OH GOD, BOG…I-I’M… _AAAHHH_!”

His discovery was so unexpected, Bog released her to watch as she convulsed and had to brace herself against the back of the couch to keep from collapsing. 

“…What…” she puffed, “the hell was…was _that_?”

“Uh, I’m…pretty sure it…was an orgasm.”

She must’ve never experienced one like that before.

“But…but all you did was touch my breasts!”

“Between 1% and 29% of women can achieve orgasm from nipple stimulation alone.”

“…I won’t ask how you know that, but I had no idea I was in that category.  That’s never happened to me before.”

Bog was secretly thrilled and honored to be her first in that regard, and he swept her bangs back to press a kiss to her forehead.  She caught his lips again before he could lean away and interlocked her fingers behind his neck when they separated.

“Take me to bed.”

He didn’t have to be told twice, even if he _was_ freaking out on the inside.  Even after everything that had transpired so far, he still couldn’t believe it.  This was happening!

She wrapped her legs around his waist and mouthed at his throat as he stood up and carried her down the hall to her bedroom, praying that his open jeans wouldn’t slip down his legs and cause him to trip; but luck was on his side when he made it to her bed without incident.  He laid her down on her comforter as gently as if she were made of the finest glass.  His hands fumbled as he helped her carefully take off her jeggings around her wrapped ankle, and it wasn’t until she threw them aside that he realized he was still standing beside the bed like an idiot.

“Come here, Bog.”

His body obeyed her, but his mind was short circuiting at the sight of Marianne, naked and waiting for him on her bed with arms wide open. 

She was……she was…

There were no words good enough to describe her. 

Her hips, her bare legs, the dark patch of curls between her thighs.  She was letting _him_ have her.  Only him. 

And by God, he was going to make sure she never regretted that decision. 

He dove into her like an ocean, wanting to feel her everywhere.  Lips clashed, hands grasped, and legs tangled.  His right hand soon found her center.  She mewled and writhed as he parted her folds and rubbed her clit in rapid, steady circles.  He was amazed at how swiftly she came again, muffling her sob of completion against his shoulder, but he still wanted to give her more.  To give her everything!

He sank down her quivering body, leaving kisses and love bites in his wake, until he was face to face with her glorious, wet pussy.  He spread her petals with his thumbs and wasted no more time.  He feasted on her; alternating between probing her entrance and closing his lips around her clit.   

Marianne thrashed and wailed under his attentions, so tightly wound she came a _third_ time in a matter of seconds.  Jesus Christ, what was he, the fucking king of foreplay?!   

“Bog!  Bog, please!”  She begged, fresh tears streaming down her face again as she pushed his head away.  “Please, I can’t take it anymore!  Please, just _fuck_ me already!”

He moved towards her, hard and throbbing again, but froze halfway as an important thought occurred to him.

_Shit!_

“What’s wrong?”  She demanded, not appreciating the delay.

“I dorn’t have a condom!”

“Are you clean?”

“Y-Yeah, I’m clean.”

“Good, then it’s okay.  I’m on the pill, and I wanna feel you.  _All_ of you.”

He was SO buying an engagement ring tomorrow.  He’d keep it in his pocket until the time was right.

While he was caught up in that plan, Marianne snapped him back to reality by pulling his pants the rest of the way off and drawing his hips into position.  He grit his teeth as she took him in her hand again and guided him to her opening.  They embraced each other and kissed as he finally thrust into her.    

As silly as it sounded, Bog was half-convinced he’d died and gone to heaven.  She was so tight and slick, and the way she howled and clawed at him like an addict, like he was her reason for living. 

The feeling couldn’t be more mutual. 

He rocked his hips in a passionate rhythm that had her crossing her ankles and raking her fingers down his back.  Growls and snarls tore themselves from his lips.  She’d turned this man of science into an animal. 

At her command, he went faster. 

Harder.

Deeper.

Time ceased to have any meaning.  Everything was dancing, burning, spiraling.  He was certain she climaxed again at some point, but he was determined to make it happen one final time as he felt the last shred of his control threatening to give.  He snaked a hand between them and right away, the blessed explosion hit them. 

Their muscles locked and their screaming voices harmonized in ecstasy as her inner walls squeezed him and he flooded her with his cum.  They were intertwined like a human cocoon, and remained so for several long minutes, neither wanting to separate, but their exhaustion and Bog’s fear of crushing her under his weight, soon prompted a compromise.  Keeping his arms around her, Bog rolled to his back, draping her over his chest. 

For the first time in several long, lonely years, they were completely content.   

“Wow…” Marianne panted, “you really are a…fucking genius!”

“…Literally.”

Bog jumped a bit when Marianne suddenly burst out laughing.

“Oh my God!”  She cried, wiping tears of mirth from her eyes.  “You actually made a funny joke!”

As Bog’s tickling for her teasing soon evolved into something much more sensual, neither one gave a damn about the chorus of ‘I-knew-its’ they’d get from their friends and the noise complaints from their neighbors come morning. 

So what if love was nothing but trouble? 

That’s _exactly_ what made it all _worth_ it.

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Anniversay to Strange Magic!!!  
> Comments and Kudos are love and life!  
> <3


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